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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30114708">Blackhole Sun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itachi_S_Lucius/pseuds/Itachi_S_Lucius'>Itachi_S_Lucius</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Alpha Uchiha Madara, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst and Romance, Blood and Violence, Feminization, Gang Leader Madara, Gang Violence, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara, Older Man/Younger Man, Omega Hashirama, Omega Uzumaki Naruto, Omegas aren't weak, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Possessive uzumaki naruto, Protective Uchiha Madara, Protective Uzumaki Naruto, just cute</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:35:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,771</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30114708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itachi_S_Lucius/pseuds/Itachi_S_Lucius</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A rather malicious gang leader falls for a fiery omega; pride and joy, trumping over egotism and carnage. Gang wars might just get intense with the affair especially with old flames. (MadaNaru) A typical 1950s type AU with obvious omegaverse</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Uchiha Madara/Uzumaki Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Blackhole Sun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Note: Yes the title is based off a 50s song. Deal.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To await was a provocation of baser desires amount within himself as scorching of values so commonly retained. Dawn could cast as she would in a glinted light off the crevices of lower buildings, those designed for destruction. An illusion, which Madara gave no heed unto; the elegant orange glimmer upon matted blood-encrusted walls. The sight familiar, ordinary, thus he pulled instead at the metal cigarette-case pocketed inside his leather jacket to lit the flame at his lips: In turn to coat his fragile lungs with the burn of fabricated tobacco they needed not. His foot was propped, toe to concrete, as impatience formed the dimple of his scowl along with the knot in his brow. Vermillion irises, became hidden under grey-cast shades as he stood in firm stance once more, pulling the cigarette from his lips in a breathful sigh. His feet wandered in astray, a randomized slow stretch of his muscles whilst impatience gripped fast upon him. An intergained alpha prejudice already congealing in his chest as he craned the tension forming in his neck; in direct opposition of allowing the growl fermenting within the back of his throat to slip free in ire.</p><p>Silence was prominent within the broken streets of the back alley. The large revved engines of the commonalized V8's and motorcycles on the main came to cut through the quiet with broadcasted noise none could mistake. In despite, Madara retained the lessons of his youth; keeping open a careful ear posed in caution for the sounds of a precautious hyperventilated breathing of an imminent and nerve-ridden attacker, he shifted to his right foot at the understanding of the sound. Put the cigarette to the clasp of his lips. The soft click of a switchblade echoing to his sensitized ears as he twined himself to the left in avoidance of the oncoming attack. His left foot jut out to trip over his assailant as balance failed the man, alongside gravity. Leithe body crashing into the plater of the cracked street scratched at the man's worn trousers: In return, Madara pressed the heavy sole of his boot unto the showcased tailbone afore him, pulling the smoke from his mouth as he did so, and glaring down upon the thin man without expectation.</p><p>"Who sent you." He refrained from making a question, turning to an interrogation as the body beneath his boot came to squirming. Slight strength fighting against his own superior mass, thus; in ire, he pressurized force downward. Not bothering to retrieve the pistol stashed within his belt for threat, the man beneath him gasped in return. Boredom, gripping him already, Madara listened around him once more, paying his senses with particular heed for any abnormalities; no scent caught his nose other then the fresh blood conjured from where his captive had split his hand over the switchblade, and no noise other then the highway and pitiful gasps from the small beta man underneath his bootheel. The cruel formed smirk rested upon this visage as a plagueful mockery onto the dispatched servant of the Senju, lain within his own blood from the cuts, those made by the edge of his own weapon. Emotion churned within him, and therein his scowl deepened, the bud of his smoke slipping from his mouth as the lines around his eyes formed to narrow; he twisted his foot down, mounting the pressure, he felt from the sole of his boot: A crack beneath, as the delicate tailbone snapped against the force: Therein, a scream pierced the silenced air from the injured beta prone upon the concrete.</p><p>Madara lifted his foot, slamming it down onto the sidewalk in a placid relief for the action. Ivory fingers lifted away the shades covering his eyes from the orange refraction upon the walls to rest against his frowned brow, revealing crimson irises; which hovered above in threat, in a disgusted glare. Saying nothing, he watched as blood slipped from the man's mouth. However, he did bend down to search for potential possessions; the matted wife-beater of the man would harness nothing of significance, so Madara roamed his hands into the pockets of the dead man, abstracting in absent thought, that which he held upon himself: A blade, a cigarette pack a bundle of spare cash, and a modern lighter. Though, he did pull from the man's right leg a notice; a scrap of paper ripped from a ringed notebook, written from a ballpoint pen; were instructions to kill him with precise date, time, and locale.</p><p>In turn, he rose, a sigh escaping as he did so whilst a hand ran through his hair in contemplation for action. Without a thought made, he kicked the body below him, yet, his front revealed nothing. The face was plain, even so, Madara knew all beta, or alpha under his command and the visage brought no recognization to memory. Mounted within the back of his throat, he let free the growl residing; slipping his sunglasses back into place, and taking out his cigarette pack out once more. His mind filtering unto plausible traitors within his grouping, there were few. Yet still, a conspiracy was obvious as the Senju had scarce information for their movements; and for them to be so abruptly informed of his location was more then convenient.</p><p>Only a few of his highest ends understood his complex relation with the prime omega of the Senju, and though unprofessional; Madara knew none of those who did would make an advocation for his life. He stepped to the phone booth nearest, fishing for the coins spare in his pocket, already irritated at the prospect of having to make a call within the dawn hours.</p><p>It was then that a car drove down the street, in slightened interest, he turned to watch as its unattentive driver drove over the sprawled body, and the beta's head popped under the wheel as result. Splattering pieces of brain and blood over the car, pouring red about the ashfault. The civilian woman beside the man driving screamed at the sight.</p><p>Madara snorted in mild amusement as he pulled the smoke from his lips and made his call, ignoring the familiar sight with ease of stoicism and memory's discomforting grasp. Grappling with the scrap of note in his hand, once the line clicked over on the other end, he repeated the instruct, and in his own callus manner made certain to say 'find him out,' before closing the call. The booth was cramped, and his urge to leave was rather predominant. In truly annoyed decorum, he zipped his jacket to full and buckled its belt not taking to glance at the nearby gore, instead his eyes rolled at the sight as few people began to take notice of the dead; in due course after the scream. The smoked fog had already begun to settle around the area, and in feigned ignorance of the fact Madara slipped over his bike, allowing the sound of its muscled engine slip over his ears, as he drove from the subtle -beginning- chaos behind him.</p><p>Already his day had become pestered without any provocation of his own, with the congealing consideration of a spy within his group, and the attempt upon his life within the dawn hours. Presently, a bar spoke loudly his name and within his own want for a relaxed mind, he followed without hesitation. His nerves were twitching in precaution, in aftereffect of death, coupled alongside the tensed muscles of his neck his back also ached. In wait at a light, he stretched as he could, with a roll of the muscles and a sigh in understanding that he would need to travel to the second bar on the road- avoidance of the law, as the slow manned police made their brief murder investigation. Though, in truth it gave him no discomfort to travel further for a drink, as he knew his nephew's highschool was not a long drive from the backstreets; and there was a bar not far from there for the teenagers to go after classes</p><p>The sun warmed the leather on his back, and in tandem his dark -long hair, thus the trip was made comfortable by the external heating provided by nature. He parked in the school lot, not caring for the uptown kids and their expensive newclass cars in the parkinglot; he may have scraped his boot against the fine pink paint of one parked with the metal intergrained sole of his boot. Therein made apology unto the vehicle with a stagnant shrug of his shoulders, and the kicking off of his engine as he made way to the bar across the street.</p><p>It was then that the nonchalant biker took notice of the groupings of young men and women gossiping as they walked into the gates. He checked at his wrist and found that it was near eight-hundred, time for the doors of education to open in admittance.</p><p>With a brief look, made only through the qualms of curiosity pecking at his brain, he spotted the ever recognizable features of his nephew; casual white button-up -neglecting a blazer or sweater as many of the attending alpha's had in due fashion- underneath his leather biking jacket, one much like his own, and the simple folded trousers of common young men: Madara snorted at the sight of the boy's hair however, as it appeared to have sprung free of its gel and was standing in all directions as a nest of dark navy atop his head; again, much as his own, save for the simplistic fact that Madara had found the solution to grow his hair to length, while Sasuke in typical teenager stubborn mind had kept his cut short to neck length. He thought in an absent manner- pondered if he should invite the young man for a drink in opposition to attending his first period, after all, he knew Sasuke detested Advanced English from the boy's many complaints of the subject at meetings.</p><p>However, in his short time of considerance, he took a cig from his pack, and another person appeared from around the bend; catching his eye in immediate attention. Shorting his reflexes for but a moment as his smoke near dropped away from his light. An omega by no doubt in Madara's mind; as the young man wore a knee-length skirt of daffodil yellow with an adornment of adorable polka-dots, and a plain white -tucked short-sleeved collar shirt. In brazenly looking downward he could conclude that the man wore skin-toned stockings, paired with a set of equally yellow kitten-heels. Staring without a shame upon his mind, Madara smirked to himself as he caught sight of the beauty the man was, with hair near golden, skin the tone of a deep California tan, alongside exotic claw likened scars upon his cheek. Madara found the leather of his trousers uncomfortable at the thought of what might've caused such unique marks; curiosity intermingling with his own depraved -licentious thoughts of strong-willed omegas: Snorting unto himself in vague self-restriction, as he considered his relationship therein with the leader of the Senju gang.</p><p>Yet, his eyes still drifted onto the figure of the beautiful young man entering the gates; his arms piled with textbooks, the struggle the young yellow-clad omega appeared to have with the small metal gate of the schoolyard. Watching as if it were his place to do so, he took a breath of his cig, pinching at the bridge of his nose in desperation unto himself to stop the thoughts that were inappropriately forming. Which was when he caught the sight; that which swiftly changed the direction his self-monitoring was providing him, two omegan women walking by. Those whom could easily pass their classmate without incident, they choose instead to purposefully bump into the man -who was clearly having trouble with his too large and too many books and scattering them over the concrete walkway; laughing all the while several alpha teenagers joining in with more subtle chuckles then the various omega's who were loudly laughing at the incident. The girls left together, talking in excited jitters Madara couldn't hear from his far-off position.</p><p>Although the inclination arose within him briefly, the biker only tipped his shades down so that his sharp eyes could better watch the omega's reaction to the blatantly provocative act. Eyebrows rose in surprise at the sight of the man picking up his dropped materials with a softened smile of an affectionate nature, while as he stood with everything once more in his arms his tanned lips twisted into a type of delighted grin, then carried on into the building with a skipping step.</p><p>Madara pushed up his glasses and took yet another breath from his smoke, suddenly impressed. With only a minut look back towards the unique blond, he entered the nearby bar.</p><hr/><p>The door creaked loudly over rusted hinges upon opening. The entire building clearly olden, with brick walls that smelt poorly, a wooden bar and doorway that could do with a slight polish, along with a small stage to the end of the room. A metal coat hanger stood to his right, though he only eyed the piece and disregarded it as he stepped in. The windows were also fogged over, left from the paranoia of the thirties.</p><p>It was small, based upon having teen customers yet serving the occasioned adult who wondered within the doors. A dropout managed the bar -he near collapsed when he ordered a 'bloody mary heavy on the vodka.'- A greased man with thinning brown hair in his fifties was clearly in ownership but was only watching over with a drunken eye and little involvement. Several low omegas in prostitutional situations hung about without contractual pay all smiles and bright, extravagant, lipstick. A few patrons were leaving with company out the back, others were in a bad circumstance and had obvious shadows underneath their eyes as they walked from the entrance; early mornings and late nights- Madara could conclude quickly enough.</p><p>Without a care, he sat at the nearest table, swinging his leg over the short chair and rocking slightly from the crooked leg. He didn't have much on his person. However, to luck, there was a pad of paper left over from an aspiring student, a pen near- and not particularly caring for whoever had left the notebook, he began jotting down his notes with an elegant hand.</p><p>Lists of possible double agents, then simple spies, then persons who might hold some accountability within his own ken. Few names dotted the paper then, as he could only name a couple men and women who had gone straight in the past, nevermind those who had switched. He had two, and one was written down with a question mark and high scepticism. He ripped off the piece and shoved it into his pocket however, disbelief discounted, he knew his position well enough to account for it even within his own egotism. The next list he made drew up the various names of those he could unequivocally trust, another point-form with few names upon it. Absently, his sensitized ears picked up the sound of the door cracking open as his bloody mary clinked on the table next to his leaning left hand.</p><p>Not particularly attentive after having heard the sound of the door opening many times previous; he did pay slight regard when his eyes caught unto the figure of someone approaching. Without thought, his hand movement paused and his body tensed. Pausing, however, as he took notice of the brightened yellow hue in the corner of his vision. He looked up then, confused suddenly. Grateful for the fact that his shades were dark enough to have covered the rapid blinking as he saw the omega he had been staring at standing above him. A grin was upon tanned lips and his eyes were crinkled with a feigned joy Madara could recognize without a thought, but as they peaked open the man was captivated in brief by the oceanic colours he saw there.</p><p>"Uh, sorry sir, but that's kind of… my journal, I left it here by accident yesterday- and well, could I please have it back?" The omega twitched with his request, obviously nervous, and once again Madara found his brow raising towards the teen. The boy was twitching with his nerves, yet, his voice was near crisp with his question and his posturing was not one of a fragile omega; his arms were crossed over his chest, as if prepared for retribution. Further intrigued, and done with his work, Madara carelessly passed the notepad back to the teen, conjuring the same blinking surprise he'd had not moments before -except obvious, as lean arms fell away from his torso. "Oh- um, thanks, ya'know." A delicate blush arose over scarred cheeks as he took the book, cautiously Madara noticed, as if afraid of a prank or threat.</p><p>In a glance to his watch, the taller man took note of the fact that it was still class-time, and in slight curiosity mixed with his own vision of opportunity, he forced himself to appear nonchalant. "Shouldn't you still be in class then?" Madara knew he could typically make sense of people with little understanding, and in his comprehension of the human mind, he fathomed that the teen before him was open- at least to an extent enough to use as an advantage.</p><p>"Ah yeah, but my friends locked me out of the classroom as a joke. So I thought I might as well get my missing materials while I wait for the next!" It was said with the brightened joviality of a happy-cast omega, but the twitching at the blond's smile showcased a differing emotion. In example from the small encounter he had seen in previous, Madara would guess that the man afore him had scarce few friendships around. "Well, anyway, thank you again-" He snorted his response, his interest in the boy already waning, though from the corner of his eye he did watch as he skipped to the door.</p><p>In part. As he was interrupted by one of the desolate shadow-fogged men of the tables. Madara turned his gaze fully to the scene, already wary of the familiar sight in the opposer's stance, threatening, and by comprehension; something Madara knew to be more then simplistic intrigue. Annoyance already ripening upon his mind, the ired man grasped for his cigarette case and lighter therein; he knew he'd already had too many for a morning, but his strain was far more then it should have been at the hour. As he lit the bud and was about to stand and take an interfering posturing, the young omega stepped back; darkened lips pulled thin while he bit at his lower, his cornflower irises cast to his right, his body was shrinking into something smaller for defense. However, as Madara watched his intrigue for the man waxed once more. Fists, coiled upon tanned arms. As the tired man approached, Madara rose his glasses to his forehead, watching with a particular glee and satisfaction as the teenager cocked the man straight in the nose with his small fist.</p><p>The adult alpha dropped to the ground firmly upon his ass, hand covering a bloodied nose as he moaned briefly. Yet, that in mind, the man was still an alpha and as the omega attempted to walk around with an angry step, his ankle was gripped tight and tugged, the yellow blond fell down with a thump and a slight whine upon impact with the hardboard flooring, hands only just catching him from harming his head.</p><p>Not thinking for the obvious self preservation the teen had, Madara grasped his drink and walked over to the scene. His boot steps echoed over the wood, and it caught the attention of both persons quickly enough. The alpha, though still holding at his nose glared upwards, while the omega attempting to gain his footing even with the hand on his ankle looked up to him with innocent- virgin eyes of innocent curiosity. In return, Madara continued without a hesitation overtaking his mind; he poured his drink over the man, and watched in satisfaction as the man swore at him for the action. His expensive suit ruined by the alcohol and tomato juice, not bothering with an explanation, Madara gave a smirk: a true amusement in his gut at the sight. He lit his lighter, in full view and pulled his cig from his lips to breathe out the smoke in emphasis.</p><p>Personal opinion and want none-standing, Madara was aware he could not simply light a man on fire in a bar, especially one nearby a school. Though were he somewhere less innocently inclined, the thought did spin around his considerations in contemplation. He would probably also require a slight more vodka to successfully do so, but that clearly did not concern the victim as he ran out the building -one would think- with hounds at his legs.</p><p>The teen righted himself, standing tall once again, and though in clear pain from the fierce grip having been upon his leg, he only gave a minor limp for the fact. He did turn to Madara though, a different sheen in his eyes then. "Thank you, that was- well no one- I mean, I'm grateful ya'know.' His hand found the back of his neck in nervous response, though the raven found himself unwilling to make a comment for the action, interest now firm as he stared at the omega afore him. He stuck his hand out in introduction, a rare occurrence for a man such as himself.</p><p>"Madara-" He refrained from saying his last name in precaution; though he was not particularly well known, it was not impossible that it would be discounting. In his luck, the blond appeared quelled by the fact, smiling calmly, and putting forth his own hand.</p><p>"Naruto." Then in sudden shift, Naruto changed demeanour, shifting his bruised leg and rubbing at his neck. "Can I repay you somehow?" Madara crossed his arms, pulling his cig from his lips as he watched the blond cough slightly from the smoke. Obviously adapt to the scent, but not entirely used to it, a common occurrence with highschool students, many of the teens smoked within the halls.</p><p>"How about a small date?" He asked, not caring for the ambitious notion. He gained a blush and a whispering gasp for the request. Though a small simper came to tan lips, thus in egotism or not, the biker considered that a slight victory. Shy eyes peered at him though bashful lashes.</p><p>"I wouldn't mind ya'know."</p>
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